Fever
by FelixFelicis-LiquidLuck
Summary: Remus has the sniffles and Sirius worries too much. Somehow, it leads to a confession and some photos.


Sirius can't stop glancing at his watch throughout the whole lecture. He fiddles with the corner of the paper, with his sleeve, with a strand of his hair, anything his hands can get hold of. His foot bounces up and down relentlessly, making James frown frustratedly as he writes his own notes.

Why the hell is the lecture taking so damn long?

"Why are you so eager to get back today?" James asks curiously as Sirius pulls his sleeve for the gazillionth time to check the time. Exactly a minute and thirty-seven seconds have passed since he last checked.

"Remus's ill," Sirius whispers back. James nods and goes back to listening to the lecturer.

Sirius fiddles with his fingers, his pen, the corner of his notes, everything.

The lecture is almost over already, but Sirus feels the need to run back to their apartment and check on his roommate which, by the way, he totally does not have a crush on.

Sirius worries. A lot.

What if Remus needs immediate medical attention?

(Five minutes left.)

What if he needs to go to the hospital, but can't move?

(How was he meant to wait five minutes?)

What if Remus is dying?

(Did they really expect him to concentrate on Russia's politics when Remus was potentially dying?)

What if he was slowly dying on his bed, wondering where Sirus was and why he wasn't by his side?

(Four minutes left - can someone die in four minutes?)

The last thought is too much for Sirius, and he slips out of the lecture hall and sprints all the way home.

There wasn't much he could miss in four minutes, he reassures himself as he runs down the street, dodging people in suits and latte-drinking girls in leggings and middle-age mothers clutching three-year-olds. This is a life and death situation.

He fumbles for his keys and it takes three goes before the key successfully enters the lock and he can open the door.

His heart's beating fast now and he's panting slightly, despite living practically next door to the university. He must be getting out of shape.

When he enters the room, Remus is lying down on the bed, staring at the ceiling in a rather depressed way. He brightens when he sees Sirius.

"You're a mess," he notes disapprovingly, but he's smiling and there's a glint in his honey brown eyes. "Why are you back early? Haven't you got another lecture in ten minutes?"

Sirius just grins sheepishly, perching on the edge of Remus' bed.

"Did you even finish the first one?" Remus says exasperatedly, but Sirius can see his lips pursuing as though he's trying not to laugh.

"Um, mostly?"

Remus laughs.

"I'll just bribe James or Frank into giving me their notes," Sirius shrugs nonchalantly. "Plus, there was only four minutes left and this is a life and death situation!"

"For God's sake, I'm not dying," Remus snorts, hitting Sirius' arm. Sirius notes the slight tinge of pink in the other male's cheeks and stores the information for later analysis; right now, he's just glad Remus is okay.

"Can I not worry about my favourite person in the world?" Sirius pouts exaggeratedly.

"You're a drama queen," Remus laughs, pushing Sirius slightly. He's too weak to do anything more and for some reason that Sirius is determined to not acknowledge, he finds that kind of cute. With his glazed eyes, pink nose and his sandy hair arranged into the messy bed hair that Sirius had become so familiar with, Remus is, undoubtedly, _adorable_ when ill.

"You okay?" Sirius asks, tapping Remus' nose lightly. Remus wrinkles his nose, then nods firmly.

"Really?" Sirius asks, raising an eyebrow. "Not ill at all? You just dipped your nose in a bucket of red paint, right? And you're practising a career as a voice actor, which is why your voice sounds all husky and ill?"

Remus laughs. He has a pretty laugh. Sirius likes his laugh. It's pretty. Like Remus.

(He's lucky Remus isn't a mind reader.)

(What if Remus is a mind reader?)

(Sirius really needs to stop with the 'what ifs')

He puts his hand on Remus' forehead, concentrating on the heat there rather than the pretty lips below or the intense eyes. He's still warm, but he's infinitely better than this morning and Sirius is glad.

(He _can't_ look at Remus' lips - he knows he won't be able to help himself otherwise.)

"You're really hot," Sirius frowns. Remus grins almost immediately.

"Thanks," he says with a smug look that is seriously the sweetest thing ever when he has a red nose. "I know."

Sirius stares for a moment, impressed. "Remus Lupin. I think I might be influencing you."

"You're the bad influence my mum always warned me about," Remus says dryly, shifting under the several blankets that Sirius had piled on him in the morning before he reluctantly left for his classes.

Sirius starts to get up and Remus' expression changes from one of light-hearted content to eyebrow-furrowed confusion.

"Where are you going?" Remus asks, reaching out immediately to catch catch Sirius' sleeve. Sirius curses his heart for skipping a beat - traitor.

"I'm just getting you a wet towel," Sirius reassures him, pushing him lightly to make him lie down again before he over-exerts himself.

He returns quickly, placing the towel on Remus' forehead. He has to bite his lip when Remus lets out a sexy groan.

(He's definitely not thinking about hearing that moan again in a different context.)

"That feels good," Remus whispers. The low tone forces Sirius to swallow nervously before he does something that he will regret. Like kissing him.

"Want soup?" he asks, needing an excuse to get away for a second, to recollect himself.

Remus nods eagerly and Sirius can't help but smile.

"I'll be right back," he promises.

Sirius goes to the kitchen, looking around in the cupboards. He's generally a pretty shit cook, tending to stick with beans on toast or just cereal when he's hungry, but he's learnt how to make a killer soup for whenever Remus is feeling under the weather.

He throws chicken corn chowder together, using the leftover chicken and some spare vegetables hanging around in the fridge. It sounds like something good for sick people.

He determinedly thinks about dead puppies and kitten corpses and James' constant attempts to ask Evans out, just in case another noise of, um, platonic pleasure caught Sirius unaware.

"Here," he says as he enters the bedroom again, carrying the steaming bowl.

"Thanks," Remus smiles gratefully, sitting up. "You're the best."

Sirius settles on the edge of the bed again as Remus takes the bowl out of his hands. He dips the spoon in the soup and... spills it immediately.

"Your body's too weak to handle feeding itself right now," Sirius mumbles, avoiding Remus' gaze. Was this pushing boundaries? Was feeding your best friend a platonic thing between guys?

"I'm not weak," Remus protests but he leans back on the headboard, watching contently with half-lidded eyes as Sirius blows lightly on the spoonful. Sirius looks up for a moment before returning his attention to the soup - Remus' hooded eyes were doing weird things to his heart... and his dick.

"You kind of are," Sirius grumbled. "I spend more time worrying about your well-being than my own. I can't even trust you and your stupid weak immune system to not get sick the moment you step outside your door."

Remus grins. "You love fussing over me, though.

(He loves Remus for a lot more reasons than that, but yes, that's on the list.)

Sirius snorts. "If that's what you want to think."

"Admit it," Remus says teasingly, poking Sirius' knee. "You love me, right?"

(Oh, he has no idea.)

"Whatever helps you sleep at night."

"But you do love me though, don't you?"

(Yes.)

"No," Sirius snorts and he tries to ignore the weight in his chest that grows as each of Remus' comments hit a little too close to home.

"Sure," Remus says, rolling his eyes. "You don't love me. And the sky is green."

Sirius can't help but wonder if Remus knows about Sirius' not-so-little crush on him over the last three years.

Probably not.

(He hopes not.)

Some of the sandy strands of Remus' hair fall in his face and Remus raises a hand to push it away, only for it to fall back into his eyes again. It was ridiculously attractive and Sirius kind of hated fate or karma or whatever stupid thing made his best friend really fucking hot and cute and funny and, well, yeah. You get the gist.

"Weak," Sirius says softly, his lips curving up at one side into a familiar smirk. Remus pouts slightly, but he doesn't appear to have the energy to push his hair away again. Sirius brushes it away for him, his hands lingering just a second too long. He hopes Remus doesn't notice.

(What if he did notice? And realized that Sirius was crushing on him? And refused to talk to him every again?)

He lifts the spoon up and brings it to Remus' lips.

They're cupid-bow shaped lips, Sirius notices. Very pretty. And kissable. He could kiss those lips for months without stopping and not get bored.

(He doesn't like this train of thought.)

They're plump and pink and moist and holy shit, Remus' tongue just slightly licked the corner of his lips to catch that extra little bit of soup and _wow_ Sirius took back any assumption he ever had about Remus being innocent because what the fuck, that was _orgasm-worthy_.

(Sirius needs to stop.)

Sirius imagines those lips on his own and finally, finally, manages to look away, because he's been staring and Remus looks slightly confused, brow furrowed and that really shouldn't be as cute as it is.

"Are you okay, Sirius?" he asks softly.

"Yeah," Sirius reassures him. "Just glad you're okay. I was kind of panicking and over-reacting during the lecture."

Remus flashes a bright smile, teeth and all. Sirius feels a little blinded.

(More than a little.)

"I can imagine," Remus laughs. "You probably thought I was on my deathbed or something."

"I did," Sirius admits, and they laugh together.

Remus feeds him more of the soup, and they talk for a while about little nothings that mean everything to them. They talk about stars and outer space and quality headphones and aerodynamics and philosophical things like, why was Remus himself? Why was Sirius himself? Why wasn't he someone else? Did alternate realities exist?

(Sirius thought he saw lightening at some point, but doesn't realize what it is until later.)

"Padfoot?"

"Yeah?"

"If you could have one thing that could be yours, what would it be?" Remus asks quietly.

(You.)

"You."

It slips out of Sirius' mouth just as he thinks it, and his eyes widen when he realizes he has said it out loud.

Remus looks surprised and stares at him, and for a moment, they are both frozen. The silence is scarily long but Sirius doesn't move, _can't_ move and he's so horrified, this is it, this is years of friendship that they had been building up since the age of eleven gone down the drain because Sirius didn't have a functioning brain-to-mouth filter and-

"Silly," Remus eventually says quietly. "I'm already yours."

Sirius' heart stops. Either this is the best day of his life or a really cruel joke. Is Remus speaking platonically? Is he making fun of Sirius? Or is he sincere... in the way that Sirius hasn't even dared to hope? It's almost impossible to tell from Remus' facial expressions, which give away nothing.

He pushed down the excitement bubbling in his chest.

(He doesn't want to set himself up for disappointment.)

"When you say, you're already mine, does th-" he starts slowly.

He's interrupted. With a pair of lips. A particularly soft, slightly chapped lips, pressing ever so slightly against his own. _Remus'_ lips. A tingly feeling, starting from his lip, makes its way down to his toes and he feels slightly dizzy.

Remus' lips are soft and sweet and perfect and so goddamn Remus that-

It's a short kiss, and Sirius wants more.

He runs his hands through Remus' hair and admires the beauty in front of him. The glazed eyes, the pink tinge in his cheeks, the bottom lip that he was biting...

"You're ill," Sirius reminds him, using a finger to trail a path lightly on his face. Remus snorts, eyes bright.

"Of all times you want to be a responsible person, you decide now? When I least want you to be?"

Sirius grins wickedly, leaning in to kiss Remus' cherry-red nose.

"Oh, oops."

Sirius and Remus move apart to stare at the doorway.

"Well, this isn't awkward at all," Peter says wryly. "Is this new, or have you kept it a secret from me?"

Neither answer him. He shrugs and takes a book.

"Don't mind me, I'm going. Carry on with what you were doing," he says cheerfully, and walks out.

Remus and Sirius look at each other for a moment before beginning to laugh. Sirius rolls over so he's lying next to Remus instead of on top of him, and he can't help the little butterflies in his stomach that wake up at the sound of Remus' laughter.

"Well, that was eventful," Sirius grins.

"Very," Remus agrees.

Later, when James hands Sirius the notes for the last few minutes of the lecture he missed, he finds some very interesting photos amongst them.

In one photo, Sirius is feeding Remus.

In another, both of them are in deep conversation, and he stifles a chuckle at one photo where Remus is staring at him, shocked, and he's covering his mouth, embarrassed.

The last photo is of the two of them kissing.

Suddenly, Sirius thinks he understands why he thinks he saw lightening several times in a minute on a bright spring day.

There's a sticky note along with the photos.

Peter deserves a photography degree - James


End file.
